


What Men Don't Do

by inkstrain (orphan_account)



Series: Men [1]
Category: Alice Nine
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/inkstrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Tora's opinion. Saga has a different definition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Men Don't Do

_—Once upon a random live, it began in between sets, during breaks._

..

Tora coughs, several times, and Saga looks up to find him discarding a barely finished cigar stick on the concrete, stepping on it with the heel of his shoe. He chuckles and lifts a hand up, patting the rhythm guitarist’s back in an effort to clear nicotine infected airway. Probably in vain, but it’s the thought that counts.

“You’re getting old.” He teases, and Tora looks up with a sarcastic impression of silent laughter, his coughing fit stopping long enough for him to retort and complete said action. “Says the oh-so-young one.” He shoots back, shrugging the hand that’s relieving (or at least trying to) his clogged up lungs. “And get your hand away, I’m fine.”

Saga withdraws his hand and rolls his eyes, re-busying himself with temporarily abandoned cigarette. “You’ve always had an issue about being touched,” the bassist muses, turning toward the near empty parking lot of the live venue’s backstage entrance indignantly. “It’s not like I want to touch you – it’s just a common action when someone’s coughing and I had to do it.”

Tora buries his hands inside his pockets, leaning against the wall beside the door as he closes his eyes with a tired sigh. “It’s not like it’s going to help.” He grumbles, a little more to himself than to Saga. And he continues. “And besides, men don’t show affection like that. It’s just… I don’t know, gay.”

At his words, Saga bursts out laughing and finally discards his own cigarette, shaking his head and giving the older man a slap on the arm. “Seriously Tora,” he says, still laughing. “We’ve been in this industry for several years now. We’ve been called gay before and you never really gave a damn.”

“I’ve never been called that. I was talking about you." Tora harrumphs, and Saga erupts in another round of laughter, pulling the door open and heading inside, the other following suit. “Go ahead. Believe yourself they're just pertaining to me.”

Another hmph, and Saga laughs all the way back to the dressing room.

..

It had been harmless at first. All those off hand comments Tora kept making the past several months. At first they had been scattered, random, something he didn’t really bother to remember. But Saga eventually came to notice that those one-liners of Tora’s frequented most of their conversations as though it was a constant reminder. But to who was the question. To him, to the both of them, someone else? He didn’t really have a clue. If it was a reminder to him, then it was not needed.

Saga thought he was just over thinking at first.

/

 

_—On the way to a live aboard the company tour bus, it persisted._

.. 

“Uuuuuuuuuuugh. I’m fucking bored.”

Saga shifts on his seat, restless, as he pushes his eyeglasses up on his hairline. The drive is too long, and he’s itching for something to do that will require him to move about. Unfortunately, there’s none, and he’s been squirming and acting all sorts of annoying on his seat for the last thirty minutes or so.

The person occupying the seat next to him sighs in flagrant distaste, but not for the first time in half an hour. It's his first time to speak though because he has reached his limit. “Some aren’t Saga.” Tora hisses, turning to the bassist and half glaring at him. “In fact, some of them like the person beside you for instance, are trying to sleep!”

Saga ignores Tora altogether, instead repeats himself, still shifting on his seat. “I said I’m bored.” He pouts in a childish manner, feeling silly and dorky. It had been two hours and they were still aboard the tour bus, with everyone asleep ever since and he’s just… he can’t stay put. He would have lighted a cigarette if it was allowed, but it's not and there's nothing else left to do but pester his seatmate.

Tora is still glaring at him, but he continues speaking, still disregarding the other’s earlier comment. “Do something about it. I might just die of it Tora. You don’t want to lose a band mate.”

There’s another sigh, as irritated as the first. “Can you not just sleep like everyone else…” Tora moans, burying his face on the pillow he’s been cradling. He says more, but the pillow muffles the rest of his words and Saga doesn’t really try to listen to them.

As Tora continues to grumble his complaints on an innocent nonliving thing, Saga decides to be extra annoying by tugging on the sleeve of the tour shirt the older man is wearing. “Come on Tora,” he pleads, turning to his side fully so that he’s facing the elder. “I’m dying here. Wake up and talk to me. Let’s do something crazy. Think of something.”

“That’s it!" The tiger shoves his pillow on Saga’s face. “It’s either I lose a band mate due to boredom or because of murder!” He reclaims the pillow as the bassist frowns at him, but he gives Saga the evil eye in return. “What will it be?”

Saga sighs, sits properly on his chair. “Fine, fine.” He grumbles, and for a long while there’s silence as the tiger mutters a satisfied _good_ and rearranges himself on his own seat. The younger man cannot help but be his annoying self, however, and pretty soon as soon as the other is settled, he allows his head to fall on Tora’s shoulder to find a more comfortable position.

There’s a slight stiffening of the muscles just right beside his ear, before Saga is being pushed away by the shoulder he’s leaning on. “Hey – get off, _get off._ ” Tora mutters, without even bothering to look at him this time. “Men don’t sleep on each other’s shoulders.”

Saga rolls his eyes, talks to himself sarcastically. “Oh yeah, because it’s _so gay_.” He sighs and stands up, deciding to just look for somebody else to annoy.

“Right, whatever.”

..

He hadn’t been over thinking it. Saga felt, eventually as the brushing off continued on countless other occasions, as though Tora was implying something against him. He didn’t know if he was misinterpreting the older man’s actions and words, but he didn’t like it at all. It offended him if Tora thought of him that way.

Of course though, being unsure, he didn’t want to speak about it at first. He didn’t want to appear defensive after all. But it bothered him, bothered Saga so much, he knew he’d explode any moment.

/

 

_—And in a drunken haze, in a flurry of emotions, what began ended, what ended began._

..

Saga helps Tora into their shared hotel room, both of them stumbling silly as they exchange slurred good nights with the rest of the band. It’s not an easy task – the older man’s frame is broader, much larger than his, and things get even more difficult when the rhythm guitarist announces he’s going to throw up.

He rushes them to the bathroom and they barely make it. Too much liquor whilst celebrating a wonderful live, and the tiger’s wasted, puking his stomach out on the toilet. This isn’t usually the case – usually it’s Saga who has to be dragged back to the hotel or driven home and whatnot. But Saga doesn’t dwell. Tora’s just had too much and perhaps that’s it.

Saga kneels beside him after the gagging has stopped. “You okay?” He asks gently, lifting a hand up to push strands of hair away from Tora’s sweaty forehead. Halfway though, and his hand is slapped away. As _usual_. Sometimes, those brush offs offend Saga and sometimes they don’t.

Tonight, influenced by the alcohol running through his veins, the action hits a nerve. More so the words, although they are very vague and somewhat… unfitting. “I’m fine. Don’t get all mushy on me.”

Saga raises a brow, a little confused. “Mushy?” He repeats through slightly gritted teeth, but Tora does not elaborate and, instead, tries to stand up by himself. In his state, he is not able to alone – and at the last minute, swaying dangerously as a drunk man only would, the bassist wraps an arm around the other’s waist to prevent him from falling on the floor.

He doesn’t appreciate the reaction he gets.

Tora shoves him away unceremoniously, surprising Saga that for a second he actually finds himself at a loss for words. It’s a bit of an extreme reaction when he only meant to help, intensified further by its accompanying words. 

"Stay the fuck away.” 

His words hurt for some reason, but fuck Tora right back if he’s going to act all touchy feely about it. And if Tora thinks he’s gay, then you know what?

_Fuck him._

He bites down on his inner cheek hard, trying to calm down. Saga doesn’t want to say anything he will regret, so he opts to escape. It’ll be helpful too – that’s what the older man wants, anyway.

“Whatever the hell you want. Good night.” He then stomps out of the bathroom and heads to his own bed, one of two, kicking off his shoes and crawling under the covers without a backward glance. 

It takes several minutes before Tora comes out, looking slightly more awake. He stands awkwardly at his side of the bed, but he’s facing Saga. He sighs, does not look at the bassist as he speaks. 

“I’m sorry.” 

And he sounds genuine in his apology, but at this point Saga can care less as he sits up and verbally attacks the older man.

“Fuck _that_! What the hell is your problem?!”

Tora sighs and rubs his forehead tiredly. “Nothing. It’s just uncomfortable when you’re breaching my personal space and doing things… that you do.” He mutters, not looking at Saga who scoffs and stands up, provoking the tiger by stepping in close – _too close_. 

“And why is that? Because it’s _fucking_ gay to be this close to you? Even as a friend?”

“It’s not about that—”

Saga is on an emotional roll, and he doesn’t allow Tora to cut him off. “Fuck, what a perverted kind of mind you’ve been keeping in that head of yours, Tora-san,” he mocks, poking the other on the forehead. “Not everyone wants you that way, moron!”

His gaze is still not met, not matched, and his outburst continues even as Tora tries in vain to interject once more. 

“I don’t know. It’s just men—”

Having heard the phrase at least a hundred times, Saga completes it himself, in a rage. “Yes! Your most famous line! Men don’t do all these kinds of things! Men don’t do _this_ and _that_!” He steps in closer than ever before, his breathing ragged. “What the fuck are you Tora, the father of mankind, the one who tells them _what to_ and _what not to do_?” When he receives no reply this time, he smirks and almost cruelly. 

“Well, let me show you what it is that men don’t _fucking_ do!”

And, Saga will never know what possessed him, but he does the next thing he does on a whim, perhaps the effect of being overly emotional. He grabs the back of Tora’s head and kisses him hard, all tongue and teeth and pain. Even if he tries to, words cannot express the anger and frustration Saga put into the kiss—a kiss that Tora responds to.

And just like that, Saga has him all figured out.

“ _No fucking way_.”

Saga steps back abruptly and stops the kiss, to find Tora looking at him with an _almost_ unreadable expression on his face. He stares and immediately regrets doing what he just did when the realization hits him hard. 

“You’re not…” he trails off and swallows hard because the rhythm guitarist has turned away, his back to Saga. There is dejection in Tora’s voice when he answers.

“Yes.” He climbs into bed without looking at the bassist, burrowing himself deep within the sheets. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

And Saga realizes why men don’t do such things. 


End file.
